Page 43 of Pride & Precedents

"You know what? Unless it's Sunday dinner, don't fuckin' talk to me, Noah. I can't believe you."

I ignore the stabbing in my chest and slam the door shut in Noah's face. He can play the victim all he wants, but he knows how much Naomi hurt me. Why the Hell would he need to blab to all the brothers? And now he's telling personal stuff about Camila, too? I need some time to think.

Murray pulls away from the curb without a word, and the car is silent until we hit the Hudson Parkway.

"I hate to see you boys fight, sir. Are you sure the relationship can't be fixed?"

I sigh and unclench my fist; I've left fingernail marks on my palm.

"I don't know, Murray. Cory's an asshole, so I know to take anything he says with a grain of salt. But Noah? Noah's more than my brother; he's my twin. We're supposed to be on the same wavelength. And for him to…"

I sigh, frustrated at the whole thing. I don't know if Camila's worth messing up things with my brothers, but I also can't be the only brother respecting the bond we have.

I push the button to raise the privacy screen and put on some calming music. Murray's known me a while and I value his opinion, but nothing is getting resolved tonight.

Chapter eighteen

Henry

After the fight with my brothers, I'm on edge and doing a shitty job of hiding it. Byron at Starbucks took one look at my face this morning and handed me my usual black coffee, cutting the usual chitchat. Later, when I told that little fuckboy, Jeremy, to stop loitering around Camila's desk a little too firmly, she took it upon herself to call and apologize on my behalf, giving me the side eye the whole time. Then, after I raised my voice at Avery, the firm's head receptionist, for leaving one of my clients on hold for too long, people started practically scurrying away whenever I walked past.

I look up to the sound of a knock on my doorframe. It's Mr. Bannister. I sneak a glance at my calendar to check whether we have a meeting. We don't.Shit.

"Mr. Park. A word." The steel in his tone leaves no room for argument. Before I can answer, he takes off down the hall, leaving me with no choice but to jump up and follow him like a child chasing after his mother.

He nods to his assistant—a cute redhead most people call Cici—before pushing open the double doors to enter his office. As usual, it's striking. Over the years, I've expensed enough office furniture to raise an eyebrow or two in Finance. But unless you want your clients to balk at your hourly rates, you have to not only provide premium service butlookexpensive too. My office is a cardboard box compared to Mr. Bannister's. Marble coffee tables. Multiple Eames chairs. Suede couches. Ivory book ends on every shelf. I suppose these are the perks of being the founding partner in a firm with revenue greater than some countries' GDP.

Mr. Bannister takes a seat behind his large mahogany desk while I take one of the two seats facing him. They're intentionally shorter than his chair—it's one of the oldest intimidation tactics in the book—and I feel even more like a little kid preparing to get scolded.

"At BBS&P," he begins with no preamble, "we not only pride ourselves on being the best, but on being professional and respectful. As one of the partners at this firm, you're expected to model our values to the other associates."

I attempt to maintain eye contact, since cowering to a lawyer is like blood in the water to a shark. If they think you're weak, there'll be a feeding frenzy.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Mr. Bannister nods.

"Good. I am happy to hear I won't be receiving any more calls from employees complaining about a hostile work environment because of your poor attitude." He looks me in the eye sternly, and I try to swallow as quietly as possible now that my Adam's apple feels about the size of a golf ball. Not trusting my voice, I nod.

"You're one of my best and brightest, Henry." He sighs and his posture relaxes just a bit. "What's got Sub Zero ready to scorch the earth around this place?"

I pause, unsure how to answer. A partner should be above letting his family interfere with his performance at the office.

"There was…a minor incident at home. Nothing to worry about," I rush to add, "and it won't be an issue again."

"You know, Henry," he says, leaning forward, "you haven't taken any vacation days in…" he makes a show of checking his watch before leveling me with a pointed look, "seven years. If something personal requires your attention, you're more than welcome to take some time off."

My back goes stiff at the mention of time off. I know I work too much. I also know BBS&P literally has an award for top earners. Their stance on work-life balance is simple: work comes first, and anything that gets in the way of that (e.g., family, friends, the occasional roll in the hay) is a distraction that should be dealt with accordingly. Several lawyers who've taken all their vacation time ended up with fewer VIP clients and smaller bonuses. I clear my throat and look at Mr. Bannister directly.

"Thank you, sir. I will keep that in mind. For now, though, time off isn't necessary."

He considers me for a moment with a doubtful look before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"That's good to hear. Don't hesitate to take a few days if that changes."

I nod silently and stand to leave.

"Is there anything further, Mr. Bannister?" God, I hope not.

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